


Always Loaded

by NeurotropicAgentX



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Bad Ideas, Established Relationship, Everyone's Issues, Gunplay, Limits are Hit, M/M, Minor Violence, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-20 22:44:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11930880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeurotropicAgentX/pseuds/NeurotropicAgentX
Summary: ‘Maybe it’s not entirely about the gun. Maybe it’s more about the fact that you’d be the one holding it,’ Bruce said quietly.Jason ground his teeth together. ‘So this is some kind of trust exercise for you?’





	Always Loaded

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to my usual editor for all her invaluable assistance, especially with language-use matters. Additional thanks to my special guest editor who knows a great deal about these characters and tolerated endless discussions about their dynamics.

It was well past midnight, and Jason was coming back from patrol. With his helmet stashed away and his armour hidden beneath civilian clothes, he fit in with the rest of the late-night stragglers. It meant he could take the inside stairs up to his current safehouse instead of climbing the fire escape. Less messy all round. He slid the key into the lock and heaved a little sigh of relief as he opened the door. Right now, all he wanted was a long shower and to sleep till noon. 

Jason knew something was off the moment he crossed the threshold. His head snapped up and in one movement he dropped his duffle bag and grabbed his handgun from its concealed holster. He clicked off the safety and got his back against the wall beside the door. 

‘Who’s there?’ he growled as he swept the apartment. A patch of deeper darkness by his couch drew his attention. He didn’t aim yet, but his stance shifted so his body would be ready for the recoil if he needed to fire.

‘It’s me, Jason,’ came a smooth, familiar voice.

Jason’s clicked the safety back on, but he didn’t put the gun back in its holster. He felt along the wall with his other hand and flicked the light switch. His pulse was still hammering, but the wariness was quickly turning to anger. ‘You broke into my fucking safehouse!?’

Bruce blinked at him in the sudden light, but didn’t get up from where he was sitting on Jason’s ratty old couch. ‘You weren’t home,’ he said neutrally. His gaze dropped from Jason’s face to the gun, his expression tightening just slightly.

Jason holstered the weapon, scowling at Bruce. ‘No. You don’t get to judge. Not after you just broke into my home.’ As much as anywhere was home these days.

Bruce’s forehead creased. ‘I didn’t damage the lock.’

‘You think that’s what I'm pissed about?’

Bruce stayed silent. A few years ago Jason would have read that silence as _of course not, don’t be stupid_. Now he knew better. Bruce was staying quiet because he genuinely thought that was what mattered and was now struggling to work out what he’d done wrong.

‘You invaded my safehouse, without permission, and nearly got yourself shot.’ Jason caught Bruce’s near-imperceptible flinch at that. Good. He deserved it. ‘You could have been some psycho tracking me down or some asshole in a cape who was about to give me the Lecture before dropping me off at the local police station. Is that why you’re here, Bruce?’ Jason asked with exaggerated mock-concern.

‘You know that’s not why I’m here.’ The ‘anymore’ was left unsaid.

‘Yeah, I know.’ Jason sighed, relaxing his posture from the fighting stance. Bruce was here as part of their… arrangement. It was a new and delicate thing between them. They were both careful not to push each other and risk shattering it. That worked pretty well, most of the time. The rest of the time it devolved into something more like this.

The sad thing was that if Bruce had knocked on the door like a normal person, Jason probably would have been down to blow off some steam with a quick fuck. But he was sure as hell not going to encourage Bruce when he pulled shit like this.

‘I told you at the beginning that this is between you and me. Bruce and Jason. If you start doing costumed crap around me, well…’ He didn’t need to gesture toward the duffle bag containing his helmet and extra weapons. Bruce would get the message.

‘I’m perfectly capable of breaking in out of costume. This is more efficient and discreet.’

‘You’re going to try and argue this with me? Really?’

Bruce frowned, but didn’t try to press the issue. Maybe he was capable of learning.

‘Get out,’ Jason said. ‘And if you pull anything like this again, I won’t be so friendly about it.’

Bruce scanned Jason’s face. After a moment he nodded slowly. ‘I understand. Good night, Jason.’ He got to his feet and walked over to the door. Jason didn’t move from where he was standing and let Bruce’s shoulder brush against his on the way out.

‘Night, Bruce,’ he said and shut the door. 

///

A handful of visits and a few safehouses later saw things stabilise. There were still occasional shouting matches, but both of them were gradually mapping out a way to make it work. No one had been thrown out or had stormed out for months. It was... nice.

It was still early in the evening and the sky had barely started to darken. Jason wouldn’t head out on patrol until much later. He had some leads to follow about an illegal arms shipment into Gotham, and he wasn’t about to head down to the docks until the real dead hours, when even the skeleton workforce had mostly left. He’d just finished rinsing off his dishes when Bruce knocked at the door.

It was obviously Bruce, the firm, precise knock and that hint of hesitation where Jason just _knew_ he was fighting himself not to give a code-knock like _all clear_ or something. He was trying.

Jason dried off his hands and went to open the door. There was Bruce, dressed in a dark shirt, with a worn coat to ward off the evening chill. His clothes would have been carefully selected to make him not stand out in this neighbourhood, and that only made the briefcase he was carrying look weirder.

Jason slouched against the doorframe and gave him a slow once-over. ‘Hey,’ he said, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a reluctant half-smile.

‘Hello, Jason,’ Bruce replied. There weren’t any obvious tells, but Jason had learned to read expressions off half of Bruce’s face. Having the whole thing visible made it almost easy to pick up on the nervous tension.

Jason straightened up and shifted his centre of gravity. ‘Problem?’ he asked.

Bruce shook his head and brushed past Jason and into the centre of the main room. ‘No. No problem.’ He put the briefcase down on the table.

Jason frowned, shutting the door. This was getting weird. ‘How’re you liking the humidity?’ he asked cautiously.

‘Green five three nine,’ Bruce replied without missing a beat. ‘It’s me and I’m not compromised.’ Jason relaxed fractionally and Bruce shot him a look over his shoulder. ‘That’s an old pass-code.’

Jason shrugged, a sharp rise and fall of his shoulders. ‘You’re acting weird. But I guess if you were being mind-controlled, whoever it was would have had better places to send you.’

Bruce held Jason’s gaze steadily as he spoke. ‘There would be more strategic places to send me, but there’s nowhere else _I’d_ rather be right now.’ Awkwardly sincere, too intense. It really was business as usual.

Jason looked away and snorted. ‘What’s with the briefcase?’

Bruce let out a long breath. ‘I have a... favour to ask, I suppose. It’s not work-related.’

 _Not Bat-related_ , Jason translated silently. Good. ‘So what is it?’

‘Us-related.’

Jason rolled his eyes. He couldn’t tell if Bruce was stalling or being genuinely obtuse. ‘I mean, what’s the favour?’

‘I...’ Bruce paused. ‘Maybe you should see for yourself.’

Jason sighed to himself. Even now, Bruce seemed incapable of doing anything without being a dramatic, cryptic asshole. It was straying dangerously close to Bat-territory and stepping on the lines they’d drawn.

Jason walked over to the table and hesitated for a heartbeat before flipping open the clasps on the briefcase. He was keenly aware of Bruce’s presence beside him, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t some kind of trap. There were much better ways for Bruce to take him down if that was the goal.

Inside the case was a handgun. It looked new and shiny, perfectly maintained. Jason’s mind flashed back to Bruce teaching him how to strip and clean a gun. The point of the lesson was supposed to have been about respecting firearms and knowledge driving away the fear, but Jason had never been afraid of guns. Bruce was another story. His fear had never really gone away.

Jason’s expression hardened. ‘What the fuck is this about? Talk fast, Bruce.’ There were lots of reasons that Bruce could have brought him a gun. None of them looked good.

Bruce ran a hand through his hair. ‘I already told you it wasn’t work-related. I thought maybe we could use it. In the bedroom.’

Jason’s eyebrows went up. ‘Us. You and me. You want to introduce a firearm into the bedroom? What, things aren’t tense enough for you already?’

‘I like our arrangement. A lot. I just thought this could be… useful.’

Jason struggled to wrap his head around what Bruce was saying. ‘You mean… like a kink thing?’

Some of the tension went out of Bruce’s shoulders. ‘Yes, exactly like that.’

Trust Bruce to find it a relief that someone else was being blunt and straightforward. It wasn’t like he’d ever picked up the skill. ‘And you’re _not_ being mind-controlled,’ Jason said.

‘No. Would you like another code?’

Jason snorted. ‘Just because no one’s controlling you from the outside, doesn’t mean you’re not out of your mind all by yourself.’

A scowl crossed Bruce’s face before disappearing, but he otherwise remained silent. Huh, that might have been an actual nerve Jason just hit. This… thing… between him and Bruce was always going to have undercurrents and pitfalls, but they’d found a kind of equilibrium. Now Bruce wanted to escalate. 

‘This is fucked up,’ said Jason. Bruce opened his mouth to reply, but Jason held up a hand and got a little thrill when it worked. ‘Not in and of itself. It’s fucked up because this is _you_ and I know how you feel about guns. There’s a big difference between a bit of sexy adrenaline and an actual fucking phobia.’

‘Maybe it’s not entirely about the gun. Maybe it’s more about the fact that you’d be the one holding it,’ Bruce said quietly. 

Jason ground his teeth together. ‘So this is some kind of trust exercise for you?’

‘Well, there certainly isn’t anyone else I’d trust with this.’

Jason sneered. ‘What, someone like Talia would make it too real? One of the "heroes" wouldn’t make it real enough?’

Bruce flinched again. Jason could count on one hand the number of time’s he’d seen Bruce this off his game. But Bruce rarely did anything for just one reason. There were always layers and bullshit and evasion. He probably didn’t even realise he was doing it half the time. Maybe this _was_ just the stupidest possible trust exercise to Bruce, but there was a pretty good chance that the undercurrents were real and that Bruce _wanted_ it. 

Jason sighed. If this really was just about a simple kink, it probably cost Bruce to be this open about it and Jason didn’t want to throw that back in his face. Not after… everything. Besides, he’d done plenty of riskier things in his life than a little gunplay. It wasn’t as if Bruce wouldn’t call it off if it got too heavy. ‘Nothing’s ever easy with you, is it?’ Jason said with a sigh, reaching out for the handgun. ‘Is there a reason it’s one of your guns? I’ve got, like, six in this apartment alone. Are mine not good enough for you?’ He was joking. Kind of. Then he picked up the gun.

Jason’s heart stuttered in his chest as he felt its weight and heft. He’d been treating it properly on autopilot, keeping it pointed down and away. Now he brought it closer to his body in mute horror and slipped out the magazine in one smooth, practiced movement. Bruce watched with an intent expression.

‘This is loaded,’ he said in a choked voice.

He knew Bruce wasn’t that careless. He knew part of the reason it was one of _Bruce’s_ guns was because it would have been stripped and checked and cleaned about a gajillion times while Bruce brooded. There was no way the ammo wasn’t one hundred per cent deliberate.

‘It seemed a bit frivolous to do this without proper verisimilitude.’

Jason stared back at Bruce’s perfectly neutral expression. Then he laughed. It wasn’t a happy sound. ‘ _Jesus_. There’s no way I’m bringing a loaded gun into the bedroom. You want to do something stupid and self-destructive, do it on your own time and don’t you dare use me as a fucking prop.’

Bruce frowned. ‘I’ve seen you operate. Your gun discipline is exceptional.’

Jason stamped down on the flutter in his chest that Bruce’s praise still evoked. ‘You don’t trust my guns, but you trust my “gun discipline”? I mean, that’s on top of trusting that I won’t blow your head off on purpose. I guess I should be flattered.’

Bruce’s frown deepened. ‘You shouldn’t joke about that. I know you’re not malicious.’

Jason waved away the comment. ‘Look, part of gun discipline is not being an idiot. No matter how good I am, a loaded gun is _dangerous_. You _know_ that. We can do this, against my better judgment, but not with a loaded gun.’ Jason hadn’t been totally sure he was going to do it until he’d said it out loud. Maybe Bruce’d known that presenting a loaded gun would make Jason more likely to take the unloaded gun option. He hated the way Bruce made him second-guess himself like this, even now.

‘Thank you,’ said Bruce. The awkward sincerity was back and Jason focused his attention on the gun instead, emptying it and putting the ammo back in the briefcase. When he was absolutely certain it was unloaded he pointed it at the floor and squeezed the trigger. He caught Bruce’s flinch out of the corner of his eye even though the only sound was a muted click.

‘Reckless,’ said Bruce.

‘You have _no_ room to talk,’ said Jason. ‘I’m not pointing a gun at you unless I know for sure. Besides, the only thing under this floor is the ground and neighbours in this area would pretty much ignore a gunshot. They're not exactly uncommon around here.’

Bruce nodded instead of making an off-handed, disparaging remark about Jason’s safehouse. That probably had something to do with the tell-tale signs of arousal in Bruce’s expression. Jason had had enough opportunity to recognise the look in the months they’d been doing this. It was interesting to see such a strong reaction so quickly. He ‘fired’ at the floor three more times, but he kept his eyes on Bruce, now that he was sure the gun was empty. Bruce’s reaction was instant and gratifying. 

Jason smirked at him. ‘Something you want to share with the class?’ he asked as Bruce failed to hide the widening of his pupils. Seeing that iron composure crack was heady. It was part of the reason Jason was doing this at all. 

Bruce tore his eyes away from the gun to look Jason in the eyes. ‘You’re so casual about it.’ There was an odd note in his voice, almost like awe.

Jason frowned. He was gradually getting himself used to breaking the careful rules of handling a firearm. The only way to get around years of experience was by treating the whole situation like one big exception. It was still difficult to point a gun at Bruce, even an empty one, when he had zero intention to shoot. 

Hazy memories of being on the shooting range with Bruce and learning how to treat a gun properly resurfaced. Jason had fired a gun in a shooting range plenty of times before, but he was struggling to remember if he’d ever seen Bruce fire a gun. Had he ever even seen him handle a gun with the intention to fire?

‘You couldn’t do this, could you?’ he asked. 

Bruce’s silence was answer enough.

Jason let out a long breath and tried to get into the right headspace. Okay. He could do this. It would probably be cathartic. Certainly for Bruce, maybe for him too. Jason’s arm rose until the gun was levelled at Bruce. The weight of it was a constant reminder that it wasn’t real, it didn’t _count_ and Jason was grateful for that. Still, his stance automatically shifted like he was expecting to fire and getting ready to deal with the recoil.

Bruce’s breath caught, his eyes flicking between the muzzle of the gun and Jason’s face. Whatever he saw in Jason’s expression, it seemed to work for him. 

‘Alright, you know where the bedroom is. Move.’ Jason’s voice had gone hard. It was weird to hear that tone without having it filtered through his helmet.

Bruce swallowed. ‘Okay.’ He turned side on, making himself a smaller target and keeping the gun firmly in his peripheral vision. He moved toward the bedroom.

Jason’s thoughts were racing ahead, deciding how he wanted to do this, what Bruce would want as well. Adrenaline spiked in him. His pulse had picked up and his skin felt too tight for his body. He liked it. 

On Gotham’s streets you either got used to being on high alert, learned to make it part of yourself, or you didn’t last. Being a vigilante had only sharpened Jason’s taste for this kind of restless high. Maybe this wasn’t a completely stupid idea after all.

Bruce stopped and turned to face Jason once he was in the bedroom. There wasn’t much floor-space that wasn’t taken up by the bed, desk and chair, but it was enough. For once Bruce’s eyes weren’t roving over his stuff, locating the weapons and silently judging the lack of obsessive organisation. Instead, they were fixed on the gun in Jason’s hand. His breaths were slow and his expression poker-face blank. Jason would bet money that Bruce’s heart rate was barely above a measured thud despite the obvious piano-wire tension in the rest of his body.

The gun was having a slightly different effect on Jason. He had to remind himself that those… thoughts he had sometimes were normal. It had involved an awkward conversation with Alfred, but the relief he’d felt when he’d been told that most people had that voice, that one that told you to jump when you were standing on the edge of a building. That little voice that said stick your hand into the fire, what would happen if you did something dangerous and self-destructive...

Right now, he kept thinking that about pulling the trigger, about shooting Bruce. Not that _could_ with an unloaded gun. Not that he _wanted_ to these days. Fuck. _Get a grip_ , he told himself. Violence and sex didn’t sit well together in Jason’s mind. You picked one, and on nights where his and Bruce’s tempers scraped against each other and they fought, they didn’t fuck. 

Jason gestured minutely with the gun, keeping it trained on Bruce’s torso. ‘Get down. On your knees,’ he said, his voice harder and colder than it ever was off the streets.

Bruce didn’t take his eyes off the Jason as he sunk to his knees and placed his palms on his thighs. He moved with gracefully, not a hint of the clumsy playboy façade. It wasn’t quite the Bat either, even though there was a gun in the room. There was a lot less of a chance of this devolving into a fight if they stayed firmly in the realm of civilian identities. If Jason’s activities as Red Hood came up, things inevitably ended badly, regardless of whether or not Batman decided to bring up the killing. Or the guns.

Seeing Bruce like this was stirring heat in Jason’s gut. It wasn’t that he was into control the way Bruce was. Probably no one was that much of a control freak. It was more about the way this was so clearly _getting_ to Bruce. Jason struggled to remember the last time he’d had so much of that laser focus directed at him. It was intense and it would have been daunting if it weren’t for the cracks in Bruce’s mask. All of it made Jason want to push, to see how this could go.

He took a couple of steps forward until there was barely any space between them. Bruce’s head tilted up so he could split his attention between the gun and Jason’s face. Jason took a steadying breath, hopefully shallow enough that it wouldn’t be obvious, before grabbing a handful of Bruce’s hair and shoving the gun under his chin.

Bruce made a noise like he’d been kicked in the stomach. His chest rose and fell with harsh breaths, but he was otherwise frozen, staring up at Jason. This was the moment, Jason decided. Either Bruce really did want this or he’d pull a disarming move and pretend it wasn’t his own stupid idea to begin with.

Jason tightened his grip on Bruce’s hair, pulling his head back just a little bit further. This time the noise Bruce made was a lot less ambiguous. Jason swallowed as heat swept through him in response. He trailed the muzzle of the gun up the side of Bruce’s jaw until it was pressed against his temple. Bruce’s was practically gasping now.

Hard to know if it was the danger or the control or even the trust that was getting to him. It made it difficult to know which angle to play up. But instead of trying to get into Bruce’s head, Jason decided to go with his gut and get what he wanted out of this. He was the one indulging Bruce’s mind-games, so Bruce could damn well indulge him. 

Jason let go of Bruce’s hair to open his pants one-handed, shoving them and his underwear down far enough to free his cock. He was hard, despite all the knife-edge tension in the room. Hell, maybe because of it. 

Bruce was objectively attractive. It was part of the whole playboy persona and Bruce _worked_ at it. But that was only a small part of it. What really _got_ to Jason was the intensity, the way Bruce threw himself completely into whatever he was doing, sex included. The extreme focus was hot. Seeing it crack as Bruce lost his composure was even hotter.

Jason put his hand in Bruce’s hair again and pulled him forward a bit, keeping the gun pressed against the side of his skull. ‘Suck me off.’ Jason’s voice was rough, but steady.

Bruce was leaning a bit and maybe he was testing Jason’s grip on his hair, or just trying to put some space between him and the gun. At Jason’s order, he shifted forward and ran his tongue up the underside of Jason’s cock. 

Jason made a strangled noise as he tried to speak and groan simultaneously. Before he could growl something about Bruce’s annoying habit of teasing, his cock was engulfed in wet heat. This was more like it. No finesse, no games, just uncomplicated pleasure. Jason was still doing this the way he wanted and made a point not to tug too hard. Bruce’s tastes ran a little different and he probably would have liked more force. But maybe that was what the gun was for, a kind of compromise where the threat was there, even if Jason wasn’t about to bring real violence to this.

Jason moaned loudly as pleasure built from the slick feel of Bruce’s lips around him. He never bothered holding back his reactions. He never found anything embarrassing about enjoying sex, and it wasn’t like Bruce wouldn’t have been able to read the cues. His freakish attention to detail made him good at this, varying pressure and pace at exactly the right moment. Jason had to constantly hold himself back from thrusting too deep in response. 

Then Bruce did that thing with his tongue and Jason swore, a shiver of pleasure running up his spine like a shock. He gasped out a warning, suddenly right on the edge. It wasn’t at all surprising when Bruce ignored the courtesy, instead just sucking harder. Trust him to act out his contrariness and control issues even in bed. Not that Jason had room to talk. Not that he had much room to do anything but make a guttural noise and fight the instinct to buck against Bruce’s face. He came hard, his thigh jumping as he tensed his legs in an effort not to collapse in a sated heap. 

Jason blinked away the spots dancing at the edges of his vision and took stock. His grip on the gun had barely shifted, which he was oddly proud of. He was still distracted as hell and it would have taken zero effort to disarm him, but he’d put up a good show. Besides, it looked like Bruce was pretty distracted himself, if the flush of his face and the obvious outline of a hard-on beneath his clothes were anything to go by.

Jason stroked the muzzle of the gun down Bruce’s jaw again and enjoyed the way the whole of Bruce’s attention snapped back to the firearm. Jason brought it up, pointing it between Bruce’s eyes. The tension in the room ratcheted up and Jason could nearly hear his own heartbeat. His pulse was coming down from the high, almost back to its usual slow rhythm. The gun in his hand was as steady as it would be on the street. There were some habits he’d probably never lose.

‘You’re thinking about it,’ Bruce said quietly.

Jason snorted. He knew exactly what Bruce was getting at. It was hard not to think about it like this, even if the lighter weight of an unloaded gun made it almost irrelevant. He’d been angry at Bruce for a long time, even tried to seriously kill him once or twice. His perspective had shifted since then. Bruce was a lot of things in Jason’s mind these days, but not someone who needed to die. Even if they’d never see eye-to-eye about what was necessary for Gotham.

‘But I know you’re not going to,’ Bruce continued.

‘Huh?’ Jason shook off his musings. Of course he wasn’t going to, even if the gun was loaded. Was this... were they roleplaying now? If so, he’d kind of dropped the ball. He squared his shoulders. ‘Well, I won’t if you do what I say,’ he hazarded. Man, that sounded cheesy out loud.

Bruce shook his head minutely. ‘No, I’m serious. I’ve been watching the way you’ve handled this. Your control is flawless when you’re not patrolling.’

‘What?’ Trying to follow Bat-logic was a headache, but he didn’t like where this was going. ‘You think I don’t have control when I'm on the streets?’ he asked. They weren’t supposed to bring up costumed stuff and Jason could already feel himself bracing for a fight. 

Bruce looked uneasy, even though he’d started this damn tangent. ‘I’m trying to say that you have nothing to worry about in here.’

‘But it’s a different story out there?’ Jason pressed.

Bruce’s expression tightened. ‘Maybe we shouldn’t discuss this now.’

That was actual good advice, in line with the rules they’d established, but right now Jason had to know exactly what Bruce was getting at. ‘No, I think this is a great time. You really think I lose control when I’m patrolling?’

‘Well, yes. You shoot to kill. Every time.’ Bruce gave him an intent look, the same one he gave an odd set of clues, or any other kind of puzzle to be solved. ‘We both know it.’ The last sentence was less certain with the barest hint of a question to it.

Jason bared his teeth. ‘Are you telling me you think I kill as some sort of _compulsion_?’

Bruce’s silence was damning enough. It was that same judgmental look he always had when killing came up. Of course the Bat had no concept of killing for good reasons and he didn’t seem to realise that of course Jason shot to kill. You never pointed a loaded gun at someone you weren’t prepared to kill. But no, Jason’s style of vigilantism wasn’t _good_ and _pure_ like Batman’s. And with a single judgment Bruce lumped him in with the Arkham crowd. How _dare_ he?

Jason struck Bruce across the face with the handgun. It was automatic. His grip had altered in a second, his arm had come up and Bruce... Bruce had barely turned away from the hit, let alone dodged, let alone stopped him.

Jason took two steps back until the wall of his bedroom stopped him. ‘Too far,’ he said, voice harsh. He was breathing hard. 

Bruce brought a hand up and gingerly felt the edge of his jaw. ‘Nothing’s broken,’ he said, not even wincing.

Jason wanted to screw his eyes shut, but he wasn’t about to take his eyes off Bruce. ‘I just fucking pistol-whipped you. I don’t hit people in bed. I’m pretty sure something’s broken.’ He took a couple of deep breaths, trying to get himself under control. This didn’t prove anything. This was completely different and Jason was a heartbeat away from calling this whole thing off.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Bruce, his tone _just_ missing unconcerned.

‘Sorry, yeah. Maybe don’t antagonise me when I’m holding a gun to your head! Fuck. Why didn’t you stop me?’ he demanded. Bruce had had plenty of time. There was no way that hit should have landed, no way he should have taken it. 

Bruce blinked. He looked genuinely surprised. ‘I didn’t think to stop you.’

Jason snorted and ran his free hand down his face. ‘There are no words.’ Bruce’s calm acceptance somehow made it a bit better. But Jason did _not_ want that kind of violence in bed and he was pretty sure Bruce didn’t get that. For the first time tonight it occurred to Jason that _he_ couldn’t entirely trust _Bruce_ right now. And it wasn’t just about Bruce wanting to take the stupid risk of playing around with a loaded gun. No, this might have started off as a messed-up trust exercise, Bruce might have even justified the idea by convincing himself it was a trust exercise, but it was something more now. It was something that was messing with Bruce’s judgement. That meant it was under his skin. 

‘Tell me you didn’t push for that reaction on purpose,’ Jason demanded.

Bruce frowned. ‘Of course not. I wouldn’t…’ He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry I upset you.’

Jason looked away from Bruce while he thought through his options. At least one of them should be making well-reasoned decisions and it looked like it was going to be him tonight. The gun was resting by his side, his hand curled loosely around the grip and his fingers nowhere near the trigger.

If Bruce’s stupid decisions were any clue, he really wanted this. Maybe he even wanted the violence. Jason wasn’t about to bring pain into this on any level, but seeing the vulnerability of Bruce’s sincere want was doing things to him. Had done things to him the moment it had been brought up, if he was being honest. It wasn’t even about pushing to get a reaction anymore. What he wanted was to provide something _Bruce_ wanted and might not even have a way to really ask for without layers of equivocation and bullshit. 

Jason let out a long steady exhale. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘We can keep going, but if there are any more injuries, any more violence, this stops. Understand?’

‘I really didn’t m—’ Bruce started to say but Jason cut him off. 

‘ _Do you understand_ , Bruce?’

Bruce sighed under his breath and managed to look put-upon, even on his knees. ‘I understand.’

‘Okay,’ Jason repeated, more to reassure himself. He corrected his grip on the gun, fingers back on the trigger-guard. With an unloaded gun, it technically didn’t matter how he held it, but he wasn’t ready to touch the trigger again. Not for a while at least. 

Jason moved the gun fractionally to gesture at Bruce. ‘Get up and take off your clothes.’

Bruce’s expression went from blank and controlled to intent and focused in a heartbeat. No surprise with how good he was at compartmentalisation. Jason didn’t know if he envied the skill or worried about it. 

Bruce straightened up slowly and took off his coat, moving calmly and precisely. The care he gave each action wasn’t enough to hide the tightness across his shoulders and the way his eyes kept flicking toward the gun. Then he went over to the chair by the desk and… yep, he hung the coat over the back. Jason waited until Bruce had unbuttoned his shirt and taken it off before speaking again. ‘Don’t fold it, just drop it on the floor.’

Bruce glanced up, a flash of irritation crossing his face, but he dropped the shirt. The annoyance was almost a relief. It was so _Bruce_ to care about something petty in a way the Bat just didn’t. It was also good to still be able to needle him and get a reaction, not that Jason was about to admit that. Bruce took off his shoes, socks and pants, but hesitated with his underwear. It didn’t look like bashfulness, but the uncertainty was interesting. ‘All of it,’ said Jason.

Bruce complied. Jason gave him a slow once-over. It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d seen Bruce fully naked like this, but he didn’t usually get much of an opportunity to really _look_ at him. Their arrangement was a lot more about hasty meetings that fit around their costumed activities. Half the time they didn’t even get to the bedroom and one of them would pick a fight instead. So there wasn’t much opportunity for a lot of close study.

It was only during sex that they really stopped needling each other. Something about the physicality of it took the edge off all the bad blood between them, letting them find some common ground. It probably wasn’t a great idea to be doing this at all, and that had occurred to Jason long before he’d found himself pointing an empty gun at Bruce. But… it worked. And that was enough.

So Jason took his time looking over Bruce. The scarring, the layers of muscle carefully built and maintained, the fact that his cock was hard enough that it looked uncomfortable. Higher up, the playboy haircut and the eyes full of the intensity and calculation that Bruce didn’t need to hide here. Jason got closer, but not too close, all too aware of how easy it was to get disarmed once your gun was in someone else’s reach. Not that he expected Bruce would go for it, but it was a habit. He circled around Bruce as far as he could with the bed and the chair in the way, just to see the way Bruce tracked the movement. There was a fresh line of stitches below his ribs, but the wound looked like it was healing well.

Jason circled back around until he was in between Bruce and the door once again. ‘Get on the bed,’ he said.

Bruce went over and sat on the edge of the bed. 

Jason made an irritated sound and rolled his eyes. ‘No, get on your knees on the bed.’

Bruce raised an eyebrow in his direction. He arranged himself into a kneeling position, sitting up on his knees so he was about the same height as he’d be standing.

After what had just happened, Jason wasn’t keen on getting within hitting distance of Bruce again. It wasn’t that he thought he’d snap or anything, but this would be good way to keep up the sense of threat for Bruce. And it meant he had an excellent view.

He planted his feet and pointed the gun firmly at the centre of Bruce’s chest. The response was immediate in the clench of Bruce’s jaw and his sharp intake of breath. It wasn’t just the gun, Jason realised, but the discipline of seeing one handled properly. Jason knew what he was doing, even knew what it was like to kill someone with a gun. There was no fear in the way he handled a firearm, just the calm of self-control and experience. How much more fucked up was this that Bruce probably knew the exact number of people Jason had killed? That it was probably a part of this?

Jason’s head twitched to one side as he banished the thought. ‘You’re going to touch yourself,’ he said, ‘and you’re going to make it good.’

Bruce swallowed and nodded slowly. He brought his hand up from his side and curled it around his cock. The tension running through the lines of Bruce’s body didn’t come from reluctance. It came from that familiar iron control. Bruce was trying not to let on how much he was enjoying this, which was pretty pointless considering he was aroused enough to be leaking precome over his fist.

‘Come on, Bruce,’ Jason said. His voice had lost its cold edge. Even the gun in his hand couldn’t detract from the fact that his partner was enjoying this. Every little sign of Bruce’s arousal made lazy heat spread through Jason’s body. This was what he wanted. Sex should be about enjoyment and pleasure.

Bruce shivered at Jason’s words, his hand beginning to stroke in sharp, halting movements. It was hard to tell if Bruce was trying to make it last or just finding pleasure in his pathological need to exercise self-control. Jason took a step forward, keeping the gun trained on Bruce. Bruce’s rhythm stalled for a moment and his breath caught.

The break in control made Jason smirk. ‘Keep going.’ Bruce swallowed, his pace picking up just slightly. This was how to take someone apart in the good way. Bruce got more than his share of pain and Jason did not want to be a part of that. This was different and that was important.

Bruce’s breaths got ragged. He was almost silent apart from the bitten-off gasps and it made the slick sound of flesh-on-flesh all the louder in Jason’s room. Jason’s eyes darted between Bruce’s face and his hand on his cock. It took him a moment to realise that Bruce was watching him in return. That dark, intense gaze was wondering over Jason’s face and body, only occasionally flicking back to the threat of the gun.

Then Bruce made a noise low in his throat, his expression twisting in pleasure before he evened it back out by sheer force of will. Jason grinned and took a step forward. ‘Yeah, just like that,’ he murmured. ‘You look amazing.’

Bruce’s gaze was riveted on Jason’s face now. His composure was completely shot and everything from the sweat on his face to the set of his lips was giving him away. Jason stared hungrily, eager for that moment when that taut control would shatter completely. He didn’t realise he’d taken another step forward until he saw the way Bruce’s eyes widened, saw himself reflected in the dark pupils blown wide with arousal. ‘Now, Bruce,’ Jason said quietly.

Bruce’s pace sped up for half a heartbeat right before a loud groan escaped his throat. A shudder worked its way through Bruce’s torso, but Jason’s gaze was fixed on Bruce’s face, watching the last shreds of restraints dissipate beneath animal pleasure. It was breathtaking. 

That probably explained why Jason found himself breathing raggedly. It was too soon for him to get hard again, but his body was making a valiant effort. Seeing the rawness of Bruce’s expression, the honesty of it, was deeply satisfying. He clicked the gun’s safety back on. Not that it really mattered, but he was reward by one of Bruce’s barely-there flinches. Jason walked back over to his desk and put the gun down. It was suddenly a little easier to breathe in the room. For both of them.

Bruce’s shoulders had lost almost all of their tension and he’d started casting around for something to wipe his hand on. Jason rolled his eyes and tossed him a scrap of polishing cloth. Hopefully Bruce was still too out of it to smell the hint of gun oil on it. Jason sat to pull off his shoes before stripping down to his underwear.

Bruce wiped himself off and shifted aside on the too-small bed to make some room. Jason wandered over to lie down beside him. They’d never had fight right afterwards and the fragile post-sex peace was something that meant a lot to both of them. Jason let the silence stretch for a long moment. ‘Sorry about the bruise on your jaw.’

Bruce hummed. ‘My own fault. Besides, it’s not the first bruise I’ve had to cover up.’ That was almost an apology, coming from Bruce.

Jason let out a long breath. He was tempting fate by even bringing it up, but he was almost sure the peace would hold now. It always had before. ‘Every time I kill, it’s a choice. My control out there is just as good as my control in here.’ Jason hoped his point wasn’t going to be undermined by the bruise that was just starting to get visible.

‘I was actually trying to reassure you earlier. That I wasn’t afraid of what you’d do with me. That I trusted you.’ Awkward, halting sincerity. 

It was almost enough to make Jason smile, but the warm fluttery feeling of Bruce’s trust wasn’t quite enough to dampen the anger rising in the back of his throat. ‘And you can’t even conceive of the idea that someone could kill dispassionately and sanely.’

Bruce really was starting to get that sometimes it was better not to open his mouth at all. The silence stretched.

‘Unbelievable,’ Jason muttered. ‘Not everyone is you, Bruce.’

‘Apparently not.’

Jason sighed. That was probably about as good as he was going to get tonight. At least he wasn’t getting the no-kill lecture. The silence stretched again, but this time Bruce broke it. His voice was quiet when he finally spoke. ‘I forgot.’

Jason tried to catch Bruce’s expression. ‘Huh?’

‘About halfway through I forgot it wasn’t real. That the gun wasn’t loaded.’

‘That’s kind of the point of this sort of thing.’ Jason paused. ‘You could have just disarmed me. I’m good, but not that good.’

‘I didn’t feel the need to. Like I said, I trust you with this.’

Jason nodded. The cryptic bullshit was less annoying than usual. Bruce might have some stupid, just plain _wrong_ , ideas about how Jason operated as a vigilante, but there probably wasn’t anyone else he could go to with a gun kink. Who maybe had a chance of getting it. The trust he showed by putting himself in Jason’s hands would have been a little more heart-warming if Jason didn’t know about Bruce’s self-destructive streak. That streak they kind of shared. 

It wasn’t much longer before Bruce stretched and got out of the bed. Jason was glad. The peace wouldn’t last if Bruce stayed too long. Jason stayed where he was while Bruce got dressed. That way it was easier for both of them to pretend that Jason wasn’t going out as Red Hood later tonight. That he wouldn’t be pointing guns at people he was prepared to kill.


End file.
